6 April 2007, Friday, 11.32pm
Things happen for a reason.
Life sucks! I wrote a whole chunk of happenings that took place during my inactiveness when my good old notebook crashed on me. Kan ni nah! Ok, easy Beng. Life is more than swearing. Sure. Not too vulgar before Karma gets into me. Karma, the law of moral causation, is an action and reaction in the ethical realm. It is also the natural law that every action produces a certain effect. Profound? Quite.
Since I couldn’t repeat history, I don't intend to carboncopy something that I lost, and I don't think I'll even bother to recall what I wrote. As I always like to remind myself, Things happen for a reason. Perhaps, it's that reason that caused the notebook to freeze screen and made me no choice but to do a Control, Alternate, Delete command. Possibly.
So, gym membership at California Fitness has expired last Wednesday after serving its entry since one and a half year ago. Before signing up, I used to think gym is such a gayish thing to be seen and to be in. Now, I kind of miss it already. How bizarre. Of course, I don't deny that the gymnasium is pretty a cruisy avenue for hook-ups. Anyways, in my ex-gym, there are quite a number of fun and interesting characters to chew on: Ms Britney-but-not-Spears (an aerobics babe who punches and kicks like Britney in her MTV), Mr Hulk-stocky-Hogan (who comes alive with his tattered gymmie tees daily), Mr Sex-Moaner (who breathes so hard as if performing the acts of thrusting while he does the pump), Mr Almost-Perfect-Hunk (absolute die-hard wash bod packed in six packs, such symmetrically build-up muscles and his gentlemanly look, if not for the twitch nerves he has at his neck), Ms Madonna-in-the-making (an auntie who clads in juandice coloured leotard with her impeccable ibu-ibu hair), etc. etc.. Oops, seems like I'm contributing to those gorgy cruisy eyes; I'm not immuned but I am infected by the gymmers with those glares and stares, less the ogles and drools. I mean, hey, those characters aren’t really eye candies, but at least some eye-icecream? Har?
Wednesday’s date with Dr Jonathan Lee wasn’t quite a fruitful one. As much as he was so earnest to think of ways to remedy my joint inflammation, I was reluctant to be treated so soon. I have my plan. *wink*. He was really trying so hard to brainwash me into injection of steroid to ease the inflammation, and I was so resilient to his idea. One: I’m a super coward and sissy when it comes to needles and syringes; Two: my plan was prompting me to say No. Ok, One outweighs Two, though. So Dr Lee and Dr The-Coward-who-has-a-Plan penned down our plan. Actually, Dr Lee uses mission instead of plan, i.e, to continue to wear the splint diligently and religiously for four weeks, then review again on the 5th week. If it doesn’t get any better by then, injection will have to take place. It seems like I don’t have much choices here. As a matter of fact, I know it’s inevitable for the injection, it’s just a matter of procrastination, and fear.
Times flies, 11.59pm, the last minute of Good Friday before it strikes midnight. Survivor Fiji showing in half an hour, I better get ready too.
Good Friday, the day Jesus died for his mankind.
Things happen for a reason.
Life sucks! I wrote a whole chunk of happenings that took place during my inactiveness when my good old notebook crashed on me. Kan ni nah! Ok, easy Beng. Life is more than swearing. Sure. Not too vulgar before Karma gets into me. Karma, the law of moral causation, is an action and reaction in the ethical realm. It is also the natural law that every action produces a certain effect. Profound? Quite.
Since I couldn’t repeat history, I don't intend to carboncopy something that I lost, and I don't think I'll even bother to recall what I wrote. As I always like to remind myself, Things happen for a reason. Perhaps, it's that reason that caused the notebook to freeze screen and made me no choice but to do a Control, Alternate, Delete command. Possibly.
So, gym membership at California Fitness has expired last Wednesday after serving its entry since one and a half year ago. Before signing up, I used to think gym is such a gayish thing to be seen and to be in. Now, I kind of miss it already. How bizarre. Of course, I don't deny that the gymnasium is pretty a cruisy avenue for hook-ups. Anyways, in my ex-gym, there are quite a number of fun and interesting characters to chew on: Ms Britney-but-not-Spears (an aerobics babe who punches and kicks like Britney in her MTV), Mr Hulk-stocky-Hogan (who comes alive with his tattered gymmie tees daily), Mr Sex-Moaner (who breathes so hard as if performing the acts of thrusting while he does the pump), Mr Almost-Perfect-Hunk (absolute die-hard wash bod packed in six packs, such symmetrically build-up muscles and his gentlemanly look, if not for the twitch nerves he has at his neck), Ms Madonna-in-the-making (an auntie who clads in juandice coloured leotard with her impeccable ibu-ibu hair), etc. etc.. Oops, seems like I'm contributing to those gorgy cruisy eyes; I'm not immuned but I am infected by the gymmers with those glares and stares, less the ogles and drools. I mean, hey, those characters aren’t really eye candies, but at least some eye-icecream? Har?
Wednesday’s date with Dr Jonathan Lee wasn’t quite a fruitful one. As much as he was so earnest to think of ways to remedy my joint inflammation, I was reluctant to be treated so soon. I have my plan. *wink*. He was really trying so hard to brainwash me into injection of steroid to ease the inflammation, and I was so resilient to his idea. One: I’m a super coward and sissy when it comes to needles and syringes; Two: my plan was prompting me to say No. Ok, One outweighs Two, though. So Dr Lee and Dr The-Coward-who-has-a-Plan penned down our plan. Actually, Dr Lee uses mission instead of plan, i.e, to continue to wear the splint diligently and religiously for four weeks, then review again on the 5th week. If it doesn’t get any better by then, injection will have to take place. It seems like I don’t have much choices here. As a matter of fact, I know it’s inevitable for the injection, it’s just a matter of procrastination, and fear.
Times flies, 11.59pm, the last minute of Good Friday before it strikes midnight. Survivor Fiji showing in half an hour, I better get ready too.
Good Friday, the day Jesus died for his mankind.
posted by chilliseedz at Saturday, April 07, 2007
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home